Pretty in Pink
by bewize
Summary: [COMPLETE] This story was written in response to a challenge to have Trunks end up in his father's shirt.


Pretty in Pink

Rating: PG  
  
I don't own DBZ, only this story. This story is based in large part  
on an episode called Frieza's Counterattack. Much of the memory  
comes directly from that episode.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Trunks was bored. He was beyond bored. It had been raining for two  
days and he had been stuck inside the house. His mother was busy  
with one of her experiments and his father was inside the gravity  
machine, working out like always.  
  
He wanted to go outside, but he had been forbidden by his mom. He  
would have settled for playing with Goten, but Goten's mom had said  
no. He pressed his face against the window and stared hard at the  
sky willing the rain to stop. Of course, it didn't listen to him.  
He was only a six year old boy, after all.  
  
Leaning back, he breathed against the window pane and drew pictures  
in the mist that his breath left behind. Frustrated, he wrote a bad  
word, and then nervously wiped it away before anyone noticed. The  
last time he'd actually said a bad word, it had been a close call.  
His mother had almost caught him before he made it outside.  
  
He backed off the chair he was leaning on and went in search of  
something to do. He wasn't allowed in his mother's work room. His  
attempts to help had caused one too many explosions and the room had  
become No Man's Land.  
  
He wandered down to the gym connected to the house and peeked through  
the window in the door. He definitely didn't plan on bothering his  
father while Vegeta was in the gravity chamber. That was a sure  
fired way to end up restricted to his room.  
  
Trailing his fingers along the wall, Trunks continued down the hall  
to his room. He paused in the door way, but there was nothing there  
to do. He'd already played with all the toys, drawn on all the  
paper, and un-puzzled all the puzzles.  
  
Vegeta had promised to take him to work out later in the afternoon,  
but for a while longer, at least, Trunks was on his own. He kept  
going down the hall, to his parent's room. Normally, he wasn't  
allowed in there either, but he knew where both of his parents were,  
so he decided to risk it.  
  
He jumped onto their bed and flipped the tv on, but there was nothing  
good on. Daytime soap operas bored Trunks and he couldn't find any  
good cartoons. A wicked grin crossed his face. Since both of his  
parents were occupied, he'd use the opportunity to jump on the bed.  
  
He put all of his six years worth of enthusiasm into bounding about.  
Their bed was so much bigger than his that it was way more fun than  
jumping on his own bed. Still, even that lost its appeal after a  
little while. It just wasn't as much fun without someone trying to  
stop him.  
  
He bounded onto the floor and landed in a crouch in front of the  
closet. Thinking about it for a second, he shoved the door open and  
looked in. His mother's clothes took up most of the space, but his  
father had clothes neatly lined up along the wall. Trunks got  
excited at the thought that his father might keep his armor in here.  
Now that would be something fun to play with. It would shrink to fit  
Trunk's body once he put it on and that way he could pretend to be a  
full Saiyan warrior like his dad and Goku. Even Gohan was able to  
transform at will into a SuperSaiyan.  
  
Of course, he wouldn't risk powering up. Even from the gravity  
chamber, his father would be sure to sense that. The last thing he  
wanted was to bring down his father's wrath. The one time Trunks had  
blasted a hole in the wall because of his carelessness, his father  
had trained him until he was exhausted. And then his mother had  
spanked him. Definitely not the way Trunks wanted to spend his  
afternoon.  
  
He pushed through the clothes, looking for the blue and white armor  
that his father wore, but had no luck. What he did find was almost  
as fascinating. A pink shirt. He jerked that off the hanger and  
pulled it back into the bedroom.  
  
Carefully, he laid it on the bed and backed up to study it. A pink  
shirt? In all his life, he couldn't imagine his father wearing a  
pink shirt. He studied it closely, noticing that it had definitely  
been worn. There were threads that had frayed off the arm and the  
Capsule Corp. logo sewn over the right arm had a small tear in it.  
  
Trunks tried to imagine his father in pink and failed miserably.  
Vegeta was far too macho to wear pink, wasn't he? Deciding to risk  
getting in trouble for snooping, Trunks took the shirt with him and  
went back to his mother's work room. He buzzed the intercom and his  
mother's voice came out at him.  
  
"Mom? Can I come in for a minute? I want to ask you a question."  
  
"Sure, sweetie. Come on in." Trunks pushed the door open and walked  
in. He ignored the machine parts scattered around the room and  
walked over to where his mother was typing on her computer.  
  
"Mom, is this shirt dad's?" He held it out questioningly.  
  
Bulma turned to look at her son and burst out laughing as he held up  
a pink shirt that did, in fact, belong to Vegeta. She laughed so  
hard that she held her sides and bent over.  
  
Trunks waited patiently. Obviously, this shirt did belong to his  
father and for some reason his mother found that hysterical.  
Finally, Bulma wiped tears out of her eyes. "Where did you find  
that, Trunks?"  
  
"In your closet." Trunks continued to wait, certain there was a  
story.  
  
Bulma quirked an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything about him  
snooping. "That shirt does belong to your father. In fact, that was  
the first shirt I ever gave him." She couldn't keep the grin off her  
face. "Let's just say he wasn't very fond of it. I didn't even  
realize he had kept it."  
  
"When did you give it to him?" Trunks jumped into a chair next to  
his mother and leaned forward.  
  
"Well, I gave it to him on the day he got back to earth. He had gone  
searching for Goku and hadn't been able to find him, so he came back  
to earth. He crashed his ship into the front of the compound,  
crushing your grandmother's gazebo and leapt out, instantly looking  
for a fight."  
  
Trunks nodded. That he could believe. His father often went  
searching for a fight. "What happened?"  
  
"I stopped him from beating on Yamcha." Bulma spoke bluntly and  
Trunks could believe that, too. His mother was the only person he  
knew who was not intimidated by Vegeta.  
  
What Bulma wasn't saying was that she had already decided that she  
was attracted to the Saiyan warrior. She wanted to keep him from  
flying into a frenzy and blasting them all off the planet, so she had  
stepped between the two hostile men and turned on her charm full  
force.  
  
"What's that smell?" she had asked. "Oh, it's you." She had leaned  
towards Vegeta and pointed a finger into his chest. "When was the  
last time you had a bath?"  
  
She had turned to walk back into the house, stopping to call over her  
shoulder, "Well?"  
  
Vegeta had looked nonplussed but he growled and followed her, content  
to leave Yamcha in one piece for the time being. She had taken him  
into the shower and blushed beet red when he started stripping in  
front of her. She had dashed out of the room, returning a few  
minutes later to find him safely ensconced in behind the glass of the  
shower door with the water beating down full force. She had been  
able to see just enough to keep her interested through the door as  
she gathered the clothing he had discarded, wrinkling her nose at the  
smell.  
  
She had thrown his clothes down the laundry shoot and laid out some  
clean clothes for him to change into. Outside on the patio, Krillin  
had joined Yamcha and Puar and they were discussing Vegeta's  
obsession with finding Goku. She had dismissed their concerns, but  
Vegeta's demanding voice interrupted her before she could defend him.  
  
"Servant woman? Bring me a drying cloth! Woman! Can you hear me?"  
  
She had turned to face the hallway, hands on her hips. "My name is  
Bulma, not woman! And I am not your servant! If you want a towel,  
say please!"  
  
"What?!" Vegeta had sounded outraged. "Fine, I don't need your  
help."  
  
"Drip dry for all I care, you jerk!" Bulma was riled up now, but the  
next outburst from the bathroom stopped her.  
  
"IS THIS SOME SORT OF JOKE?" Vegeta bellowed. Inside the bathroom,  
he was holding up a pink shirt, disbelief written on his face. "Is  
this clothing for a man or a woman?!"  
  
"What is it?" Bulma demanded.  
  
"This shirt is PINK."  
  
Bulma laughed. "That's the style here, silly."  
  
"Men wear pink clothes. How bizarre!" With no options left besides  
walking outside naked, Vegeta pulled on the clothes Bulma had left.  
  
He slammed the door open and stalked out towards Bulma. "This is  
ridiculous! I am a warrior not some variety of flower!" His face  
was a thundercloud, but that didn't stop Bulma from laughing.  
  
"Well, you certainly smell better..."  
  
Trunks listened to this story fascinated. His father had worn a pink  
shirt?  
  
"Of course, pink or not, your father was still a warrior. He flew  
out to face Frieza later that same day. That was the day we met you,  
well, future you anyway. Of course, we didn't know that then."  
Bulma reached across to ruffle her son's hair. "And you were so  
amused at your father's wardrobe, even then."  
  
She laughed to herself as Trunks jumped down. "Thanks, mom." He  
laughed with her as he left the room, a plan forming in the back of  
his brain. He hid the shirt in his room until later.  
  
That night, when he went downstairs for dinner, he walked into the  
room, proudly wearing his father's pink shirt. He was rewarded for  
his bravery when his mother burst into laughter again and his father  
choked on his water.  
  
"Hey, dad." He smiled. "I bet you looked real pretty in pink."


End file.
